


Asshole

by moonstruckhargrove



Series: The Billy Hargrove Chronicles [9]
Category: Stranger Things - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Filth, More Porn Without Plot, Smut, a dash of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 16:31:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16857472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonstruckhargrove/pseuds/moonstruckhargrove
Summary: Based on the request: "Hey ❤ your blog is amazing, I just went through your whole stuff and it was very good. That’s why I wanted to request something; could you do something little with Billy and the prompt “don’t you fucking understand? You’re the one for me.” Thank you so much!!"





	Asshole

You knew the minute Billy started pulling away from you.

His pet names for you came fewer and far between, his temper was even shorter than usual, and he just didn’t pay all that much attention to you.

At first it hurt. It hurt _a lot_. You tried to talk to him about it, let him know you were there for him whenever he decided to talk, but he never did. Instead, he seemed to move even further out of your reach until the two of you didn’t speak at all when in the apartment you shared together. It was as if you were living with a stranger.

You stepped around each other as if you were walking on eggshells, avoiding any and all physical contact with one another. Billy slept on the couch while you tossed and turned restlessly in your bed, wanting nothing more than to have your boyfriend back. You knew he was in there, the soft, caring side of Billy that had taken you years to bring to the surface, but the Billy you knew in high school was the one you were faced with now: angry, distracted, uncaring, listless, mean.

When he started downright ignoring you, your hurt turned to blind rage. You broke a vase near his head just to get him to _look_  at you, and still, he avoided your eyes. You were at your wit’s end with him, no longer sure how to talk to him.

You buried yourself in your job at the coffee shop, the one that paid just barely enough to cover your rent. Billy started coming home later and later from the garage, smelling like a liquor store. You tried not to outwardly show your disappointment, but you knew you’d failed when he’d glance at you and scoff.

After your shift one evening, you decided to stop by for a drink. Just one to dull the heartache that hadn’t stopped since Billy iced you out. And exactly three Jack and Cokes later, you stumbled into your shared apartment. Your alcohol tolerance was out of whack. Billy was on the couch, staring unseeingly at the TV, which was off. A quartet of beer bottles littered the coffee table and one was gripped tightly in his fist.

You thought you’d get by with a free pass, but then, this was Billy.

“Look at the pot calling the kettle black,” he said with a sneer before downing what was left of his fifth beer. The bottle joined the others on the table.

“So he does speak,” you retorted, feeling an uncharacteristic flare of confidence. But it was short-lived when he just scoffed. “Why are you still here?”

“I live here?” His tone was coldly mocking.

“Could’ve fooled me. This is the most you’ve spoken to me in a month. A month, Billy! It’s like I’m living with a goddamn ghost, and I’m sick of it. So you either tell me what the fuck is up with you, or you find a new place to live.”

“That’s funny. You’re going to kick me out?” He grinned maliciously.

“I will if I have to,” you replied, your tone firm and determined. “I can’t live like this anymore, Billy.”

He scoffed again, looking at his lap. “Then you’re just like the rest of them.”

Your eyebrows came together in confusion. “The rest of who?”

“Everyone.” His voice dropped to something sad and self-deprecating, and you sighed quietly. The Billy you’d grown to love was shining through, terrible self-esteem and all.

“Billy, I want to help you. I’ve been trying to. And you’ve just completely iced me out. I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.”

“You’re supposed to leave,” he muttered, jaw clenching as he fought off the demons in his head.

“Leave? Why would I leave? Billy, I love you–” You gasped as he jumped to his feet and crossed the room in three long strides, backing you against the wall. Bracing one hand on the wall beside your head, his right fist reeled back and then surged forward, tearing through the drywall as if it was tissue paper.

Billy’s chest was heaving as you stared wide-eyed at him, fearing him for the first time. He smiled cruelly at the look in your eyes. He would always prove his father right.

“That’s why you’re supposed to leave.” He was shocked when his voice cracked at the end. “I’m only going to hurt you.”

“Billy,” you murmured, reaching up to clasp his face between your hands. His eyes were shining, his bottom lip trembling as the past month caught up to him. “You would never hurt me. I _know_  you, I trust you. You’ll never hurt me, not physically. But you hurt me when you shut me out. I can’t be here for you unless you let me in. You’ve come so far, Bill. Don’t throw that progress away.”

“Why the fuck are you in love with me?” he suddenly shouted, ripping his face out of your grasp. Without your touch, he felt cold and hollow. “I’m an asshole. I’m not good enough for you. I’m just like, just like _him_.”

“You stop that right fucking now, Billy Hargrove,” you interjected harshly. When you had his full attention, you pulled him back to you. Your voice shook as you spoke. “You listen, and you listen _very well_ , okay? I _love_  you. You are the bravest man I’ve ever known. Yes, you’re an asshole but guess what? Sometimes you get a free pass. Sometimes you’re a huge fucking pain in my ass, especially when you smoke in the apartment because you _know_  that shit stains the walls. You leave your disgusting sweaty gym clothes all over the fucking place and you really have never heard of a fucking dishwasher. You’re way too quick to react, you don’t think things through completely, and sometimes you can be really, really fucking mean, but you know what? I don’t care. I want all of you. **Don’t you fucking understand? You’re the one for me.** ”

The force of his kiss was bruising, but you met it with equal force. The taste of salt let you know that the tears he’d held back had broken free. Your hands curled tightly into his shirt, pulling him flush against you as you let your own tears fall. A month of no physical or emotional contact had your head spinning as you relished in the feel of his body against yours, the way his hands came to your hips and _squeezed._ He ground his hips against yours, letting you feel just how much he missed you, and when you moaned into his mouth, his tongue slipped between your lips and tangled with yours.

“Bedroom?” he panted, dropping his mouth to your neck and one hand to the button on your jeans. Your head tilted back to bump against the wall, and you shook it.

“No, need you now,” was your breathless reply. You felt him smirk against your neck as he helped rid you of your pants and underwear, leaving them in a pile somewhere behind him.

His hand found the crux of your thighs and without warning he buried two fingers inside you. You moaned loudly at the intrusion.

“Fuck, you’re soaked and I’ve barely touched you,” he growled against your mouth as he kissed you again. You rolled your hips against his hand, fisting your hands in his hair and pulling.

“That’s what a month without you does, you asshole. _Fuck_. Billy, stop teasing.”

His thumb brushed over your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure straight through to your fingertips. As payback, you reached down between you to rub him hard through his jeans. He broke away from your mouth to groan and toss his head back, his hips bucking into your hand. You attached your mouth to his neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses down to his chest where his shirt was characteristically left unbuttoned.

As you neared your orgasm, hips thrusting erratically against Billy’s hand, you reached for his belt buckle and all but ripped him from his jeans.

“Jesus, you’re going to kill me,” he moaned as he deftly hoisted you up by the waist and kept you pinned with his hips. You guided him to your entrance, slick with your arousal, and the moan you let out as he pushed his hips forward was borderline pornographic.

Your hands slid under his shirt, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders as he pulled almost completely out of you, only to drive forward until he was buried to the hilt. The pace he set was relentless, and the echoing sounds of your moans, his grunts, and his hips colliding with yours created a beautiful soundtrack to your reunion.

“Billy,” you sighed, capturing his mouth in a searing, dirty kiss that was all tongues and teeth. Jesus you missed him. 

Your hand left his neck to come between you, and you cried out as your fingers found your clit and rubbed in small fast circles.

“Jesus, if that’s not the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Billy groaned, dropping his chin to watch you bring yourself to the edge. “Fuck, babe, I’m so close.”

Your orgasm crashed over you suddenly, and the clenching of your walls around Billy’s cock made him moan, loudly, before his thrusts became sloppy and stuttered. He came with a groan, releasing inside you. He slowed his hips and you felt him twitch inside you.

He kept you against the wall, and you had no complaints. You dropped your head to the crook of his neck, relishing in the feeling of being in his arms again. Your lovemaking, as rushed and as frantic as it was, made you emotional, and before you knew it you were sobbing into his neck.

“Hey, hey, sweetie. Come on now, don’t cry,” Billy pleaded softly, carding his fingers through your hair.

“I missed you so much.” You clung to him with your admission, legs tightening around his waist. As if you were afraid he’d disappear. His muscled arms wound around you, his hands rubbing up and down your back.

“I missed you, too. And I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I forgive you but on one condition.”

“Anything,” he chuckled.

“Fix the drywall tomorrow.”

He laughed then, and it was like music to your ears. “Whatever you want, baby.”


End file.
